The Auld Game
by Commander Argus
Summary: Ron's got a promising new career, but one obstacle stands in his way! Now with twice the chapters!
1. The Auld Game

**The Auld Game**

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**A Trinity Sitch Interlude starring Ron Stoppable**

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Ron held his weapon with both hands firm on the grip, the long metal shaft drawn back over his shoulder, ready to strike his target. His eyes stared straight forward, never wavering once they found their mark. He swung with all his might, knowing what could befall him if he failed. He could feel the strike and he hoped against all hope his aim was true.

Turning for just an instant, he could see the expressions on his companion's faces. It didn't look too good.

His gaze went back out into the large field. He saw nothing. He kept his eyes on the spot he was aiming for, but there wasn't even the hint of movement. Finally a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Ronald, I think it landed right over there."

He followed where Dr. James Possible was pointing. Sure enough, sitting not twenty yards away was a small white ball. Not only had it not traveled very far, it had sailed about forty five degrees off course.

"That is one wicked slice." Monique's father said as he pulled a club from his own bag.

"Need a mulligan?" Dr Possible asked, smiling at Ron.

"No, MrDrP. I think I need a miracle."

Ron actually had a job waiting for him when he got back from his honeymoon. He knew it would be largely ceremonial at first, but the bigwigs of Bueno Nacho wanted a familiar face heading up their new Tri-City territory. Who better than the inventor of their two most popular dishes ever? Who better than the heralded partner and new husband of the world famous Kim Possible?

Ron Stoppable, creator of the Naco at fifteen, the genius behind the Naked Molé Wrap at Twenty, the savior of the company both physically and fiscally was going to spend a lot of time having his picture taken. He was going to be the new, fresh face of the company.

Booyah! Ron was in the house! Yup! Yup!

Then his bosses dropped a biggun in his lap. _Hey, why don't you come out to the Upperton Country Club next week and we'll discuss your future over eighteen holes?_

Okay. Sure. See you then!

_I'm doomed!_

See, the problem is, Ron had never swung a golf club in his life unless there were windmills and castles involved. Yes, maybe he could acquit himself well on the green, but getting there, well, he didn't have a clue. He no more knew the difference between a three wood and a sand wedge than his wife knew between a spatula and a bowl scraper.

That afternoon he had a conversation with his father-in-law the older man said brought him the second most joy that Ron could possibly bring him (the first, which James Possible was not quite ready for, would be when Ron came to tell him that he would be a grandfather!)

They were on the grounds of the Middleton Links within the hour! Thirty minutes later Ron was on his way back to the Pro Shop to get another dozen balls.

James shook his head. He knew this wasn't going to be easy for the boy!

"Maybe we should have started with the driving range." Monique's father suggested.

"Well, we've paid for our tee-time, let's make the best of it." James said.

Ron was determined to play by the rules, so he marched right up to the ball to 'play it where it lay.' He sized it up and got ready to swing. "Be the ball. Be the ball." He repeated, over and over. Now where had he heard that before?

He let loose with a mighty swing. The two older men in his group whistled, their heads following the impressive trajectory down the fairway.

"About a hundred yards?" James asked.

"I'd say so." The other man replied.

Ron looked down the fairway, but he couldn't see his ball anywhere. Had it sliced again, or had it hooked this time?

"I've never seen a divot go that far before." Monique's Dad finally commented.

"Where did my ball go?" Ron asked, still squinting into the distance.

"Um." James said, pointing at Ron's feet. Lying there, in the exact middle of the hole his club had dug, was his ball. It hadn't moved an inch!

"Aw, man!"

"Look, Ronald, this hole is Par 3. Why don't you play a five iron or something. It'll be easier for you to hit the ball than using a driver." Helpfully, he pulled the indicated club from Ron's bag, noting it must have been twenty to thirty years out of date.

Noting James' quizzical look, Ron explained. "My dad's clubs. Never been used."

"Ron, don't worry so much about hitting the ball so hard. Concentrate on just connecting with it. It's better just to march the ball down the fairway than to try and get on the green in one shot. Don't worry, it'll come to you." He gave his son-in-law a huge smile.

His friend turned to him and said in a low voice. "He's doomed, isn't he?"

Yep. They both watched in awe as Ron finally got on the green. Too bad it wasn't the one at their hole.

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Kim and Ron may have just moved into a nice new townhouse condo, purchased with money from Ron's Naco trust fund, but Pizza night at the Possible house was still "Required attendance." (over the last nearly eighteen years James was certain he could count the number of pizza nights Ron had missed on one hand!)

"So, Ronald, how did the golf game with your bosses go?"

"Actually, MrDrP, it didn't go too bad, but let's just say I'm not in any danger of making them look bad."

"Ron's just being modest, Dad. He was only five strokes behind the rest of the group."

"Well, I'm impressed. Very impressed. So, Ronald? How did you learn that much in just a week? Did you hire a course pro to give you some pointers? Did Wade come up with some immersion program to teach you to swing?"

"Well, I didn't go to a course pro, and somehow I think using Wade's stuff would be just a bit cheatish, but, yes, I did have some help?"

"Really. Would it be anyone we know? Maybe a tour pro Kimmie-cub helped out in the past."

"Uh, er, no, though it is somebody Kim and I have dealt with in the past." He started picking pepperoni off his pizza, a sure sign he suddenly wasn't hungry.

"Oh?" James' eyebrows went up.

"Well, I've asked it before and I'll ask it again, how many times does somebody have to force feed me sheep's lungs cooked in its stomach before they realize I don't like it!"

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A/N – just a little silliness to clear my head, especially when all sorts of people are getting really deep!

Yes, I'm a lot like Ron. I do not play golf well. Fortunately I've never been put in a position where I'd have to go play with my superiors, and I hope I never will because, yes! A hook and a slice really can be that bad!


	2. Part Deux

**_The Auld Game: _Part II  
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James seemed quite pleased with himself as he took his trusty old clubs out of the back of his brand new Jaguar S-type. It was still bronze, just like his old one, but it was full of all the new features he had been craving for so long. It also had something in common with his Kimmie-cub's PT Cruiser and Ronald's Trans Am; it had a cold-fusion power cell that drove electric motors on each axle. He was incredibly proud of the car and had been wanting one for years, though there really wasn't anything wrong with the old one. It was just…old.

That was about the way he was starting to feel about himself. His daughter was now a married graduate student and his sons were off to college in Las Angeles. For the first time in twenty two years there was only him and his wife in their large house. Even his niece Joss, who had been their house-guest for some time, had finally gone out and found her own apartment in town. Where they had once worried that the place might even be a tad too small for such an active family, they suddenly felt like they were living in a big empty mansion.

The sound of a high performance V-8 engine connected to a dual exhaust announced the presence of his son-in-law, Ronald. Of course, there was no such petroleum guzzling engine under that hood, but the car boasted a sound system designed to make people think it was a more conventional machine. Of course, Ron liked to "gun" the engine on the thing, just like any other twenty-two year old guy would.

James was a little surprised to get the call the day before. After his initial foray into the ancient Scottish rite, he pretty much shoved golf aside as part of his 'I'll use it when I need it' skill-set. He had become just good enough not to make a fool of himself when he was called upon by his superiors to play it. Given that he was now looking to reduce, if not sever his ties with the Bueno Nacho corporation in order to open his own restaurant, that call simply was not coming any longer. Then, he simply called him out of the blue to come out and play a round. Just the two of them. That was a tad surprising, since he had gotten a T-time at the Upperton Country Club instead of their usual course at the Middleton Links. Not only was the club somewhat exclusive, but they frowned on granting times to pairs instead of foursomes. He strongly suspected a favor had been called in by the young man.

The second surprise of the day came when Ronald pulled a fairly decent looking golf bag out of his too-small trunk. The last time they played together he brought his father's old clubs; a collection of ratty old irons and cheap woods that had been assembled from sports consignment stores, then promptly put away and never used. Granted, that day not even a professionally fitted set of custom _Pings_ would have helped the poor boy. The only golf he had ever played to that point had been Middleton Mini Golf. In fact, Kim made the comment when they came home from their honeymoon that he was the only American male on that Caribbean island who was not out on the links for most of the day.

Ronald and his Kimmie-cub had only been married for three and a half months, though it seemed like it was much longer than that. It wasn't surprising he felt that way since they had been best friends since they were four years old and spent close to four years being engaged so they could finish up their degrees.

"You ready, Mr. Dr. P?" He asked, shouldering his bag. He had given a go at calling him "Dad P" but slipped back to the familiar old title after a while. He really couldn't blame him, since he called his own parents Mom and Dad, and was visibly uncomfortable calling them Anne and James. His wife would still try correcting him, but after almost a lifetime of calling her Mrs. Dr. P he really wasn't about to change.

Then too, he had yet to break himself of his own habit of calling kids by their complete name instead of a diminutive. "As much as I'll ever be, Ronald. Nice clubs, by the way."

"Thanks! They were a gift from a Senior's Tour pro we helped a couple years ago. He found out that I played and sent them to me. This is actually the first time I've been able to use them since they were fitted."

"So what brings this on. I didn't think you were that into the game. I know when I was your age I sure wasn't. It was all thermo-dynamic fusion couplings and linear data stream enablers. Why I remember when Doctor Venterman…"

"Uh, Dr. P, you told me to let you know when you were techno babbling." Ron said a little softly.

"Oh, yes, right. Anyway, I hope you brought your good game, because I'm feeling very good about mine today."

"I can hold my own, Dr. P. Just don't expect me to turn into Tiger Woods. Now, that time Kim and I played…"

"Kim played golf?" He was genuinely surprised. Generally speaking, Ronald had to almost literally drag her out to the mini-golf. If it didn't interest her, it didn't exist.

"It was just that one time. We went tandem skydiving together the week before, so she said she owed me and we went out and played. She kept going on about how terrible her score was, but she still beat me pretty soundly."

"Oh? What, pray tell did she shoot?"

"Sixty Seven."

James almost choked. In twenty years of playing he had yet to crack eighty. Then again, his daughter was the same one who with just a little online research had become an expert soccer player. If they had only encouraged her to play some other sports, there might be more than just her cheerleading trophies to show off.

Then again, there was a very good reason they hadn't encouraged her that way. Given her drive to succeed, she was prone to take things to a very critical extreme. When her natural "Kimness" took hold she could drive everyone around her batty.

But a sixty seven? The first time she ever set foot on a course to play?

"I trust you won't do so well today. Certainly don't want you making me look bad."

"Oh, I don't think there's any danger of that, Dr. P. Like I said, I haven't played since we got back from our last big mission. I'm probably pretty rusty, though I hope these bon-diggity clubs help my game."

In fact, Ron seemed like a completely different man than the one he played with a couple months earlier. His swing still needed a lot of work, looking, as he would put it, rather herky-jerky, but at least he kept his ball on the fairway and somehow managed to keep off the beach.

James was rather proud of his son-in-law. In fact, he really never called him that. To him, he was another son. Gene, his father, knew he felt that way and was quite happy about it. After all, he was around Kim so much growing up he was a defacto father anyhow. He laughed a little to himself when he realized that even just a couple years ago, Ronald would have shown up at the course wearing old-fashioned knickers and an argyle sweater, topping it off with a floppy golfer's hat. Instead, he was wearing a sky-blue polo shirt and nice khakis, as well as a half-decent pair of golfing shoes. The only tip to his old Ron-ness was an extra pocket sewn onto his pants leg. Every so often Rufus would pop out to squeak something only the young man could understand. For a while he was concerned that his long-time pet might be getting on in years, but a biologist had clued them in to the fact naked mole rats were extremely long-lived, especially if they got the kind of care the little guy received from his 'parents.'

He didn't know whether to be pleased or concerned that Ron was pretty much keeping pace with his score. He was only three shots behind and that had more to do with his lack of experience than anything else. Ronald did make a couple lousy shots here and there, making him gag momentarily as if he were afraid something bad may happen, but at least the shots stayed fairly straight.

The sixteenth hole was a par 4, and probably the easiest one on that particular course. The hole itself was just around a slight bend, obscured by a short stand of young pine trees. Ronald shot first, putting his ball in the fairway right at the bend. It was perhaps the best shot he had made all day long. James knew he would have to put his ball pretty close to Ronald's or it was likely he could narrow the gap on him, perhaps even pull into a tie. Of course, he wouldn't mind all that much losing to him, but there was a little bit of pride on the line. The old man still had it!

After about the fifth hole, they had started talking a little junk as they set up their shots. That sort of thing would have never flown in a foursome, but between the two of them, it was pretty fun. He even got in a jab about black holes, to which Ron countered he had actually been fairly close to a few of them when he had been traveling in deep space. Both of them had a good laugh when he pointed out the two of them had actually started a certain activity in fairly close (but still safe) proximity to one.

"You're gonna slice like pizza, or hook like a fishing trip, I bet." Ronald said, smiling as he leaned on his three wood.

James addressed his ball. "Oh, would you be willing to back up that wager?"

"Oh yeah." Ronald rubbed his hands together. "I'll put up dinner for the whole fam next time Jim and Tim come home, cooked personally by me if you make this shot."

His mind raced. What on Earth could he bet that Ron didn't really already have? In the old days he could have wagered a later curfew, but that had gone by the wayside pretty quickly when the two of them demonstrated their trustworthiness. There had to be something…

…He had it. "Okay, If I don't make a better shot than yours, I'll take you to the meeting at Kennedy Space Center next week, and I don't mean that tour you took a few years ago, I mean you can get into the real nitty-gritty of the operations down there."

"Your on." He grinned from ear to ear, leaning once more on his club.

"No junk talking." James warned as he set up his shot again.

"Aw, come on. Can't change the rules now."

James shot him a look and got ready to swing. He drew back, grinning slightly, feeling good about the shot. Muscles twitched as the club started descending.

"We're having a baby." Ron said softly, right before the club hit the ball.

James' shot didn't even register in his mind. For an instant he even forgot where he was. Those words were something he and his wife had been looking forward to from the moment the kids walked down the aisle as man and wife.

"Ronald, did you just tell me…?"

He nodded vigorously. "Kim's about three weeks pregnant. She just found out the other day."

"Ronald, that…that…that's wonderful." He dropped his club and grabbed him in a huge bear-hug.

Barely able to breath, Ronald squeaked "Um, for the record, you did slice!"

"I don't care. I'll be glad to take you with me. I…"

He was cut off by a commotion further down the course. There was some light cheering going on. Certainly there hadn't been anyone close enough to hear their exchange. Some other people on the course heard and seemed to be headed down the course.

"I wonder what that's all about?" He asked, scratching his head slightly.

"I guess we'd better find your ball. It looked like it was heading into the pines. Oh man, it's gonna be so cool! I love rockets!"

They shouldered their bags, preferring to walk the course rather than use a cart, just like the pros did. By the time they got close to Ronald's ball, another group of golfers came up to them. "Who made that last shot?"

Ronald pointed at him with both index fingers. "That would be Doctor Slice right here! Booyah!"

The closest one simply grabbed his hand and started pumping it. "That was absolutely beautiful. I've been playing here for a decade and I've never seen a shot quite like that one."

He looked at his son-in-law, then back to the gentleman. "What, did I get on the green?"

The three golfers exchanged looks and laughed. "You could say that. I tell you, you should have made a bet with this young man over that shot, cause he would be paying up in spades."

"What?"

"Didn't you hear the cheering? Sir, you just made a hole-in-one! Wow, what a shot! Tell you what, when you're done, come on down to the nineteenth hole, I'm buying the first round."

They headed back to the hole they were playing, leaving the two men with their jaws on the fairway. Forgetting Ronald's ball, they headed straight to the green. Sure enough, his Titleist 4 was right there in the cup.

He leaned on his bag, grinning at the new father-to-be. "Well, looks like we're going to have a dinner compliments of Chef Ron-ald. I like my filet mignon medium rare, with double bacon, please and thank you."

Ronald just smiled at him. "I wonder how Kim's doing telling Mrs. Dr. P?"

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Kim Possible and all related characters © Disney 


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